


Smart TV

by Reaping



Series: Artsy April [14]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Comfort, Cuddling, Derek vs Technology, Established Relationship, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Police Officer Stiles Stilinski, self-deprication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-06-02 11:13:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6564007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reaping/pseuds/Reaping
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>April 15th Prompt: Technology</p><p>This is the fifth damned remote they’ve replaced since they bought the TV two months before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smart TV

**Author's Note:**

> I'm doing a lovely challenge with some friends called Artsy April. They'll be doing art, but since I cannot draw or paint or sculpt or do basically anything art-related to save my life, I'm doing a daily fic. I hope you enjoy!
> 
> If I missed tags let me know. Concrit is always welcome and appreciated.

Stiles has barely stepped out of the freight elevator when he hears the roar and the sound of something shattering against the loft door. He drops the bags of groceries, hearing the telltale sound of breaking eggs as he sprints for the door, flinging it open and ducking around the edge of it, already drawing power through his spark. His eyes dart around the loft looking for the danger but are unable to find any. He slowly straightens from his crouch, gaze landing on the broken bits of plastic scattered around the space he’s standing in. His shoulders slump, head dropping forward as he realizes what happened.

“I just ruined two dozen eggs for nothing jackass!” He doesn’t see Derek but he knows the other man can hear him. He gets no response so he heads back into the hallway, scooping up the groceries and carting them into the kitchen. The eggs go in the trash, but thankfully everything else seems okay. He’s nearly done putting them all away when Derek finally comes stomping down the stairs, the tips of his ears still red. “Care to explain?” Derek doesn’t bother answering, instead huffing out a sigh and grabbing up the trash to take downstairs. His eyes roll at Derek’s back as he stuffs the empty bags away before moving back into the main room. He sits down on the couch, shoes kicked off under the coffee table and feet propped on top of it before he realizes the remote is missing. He shifts couch cushions, moves all the magazines, and still can’t find it. His eyes track back to the mess of plastic still in front of the door and he sighs, levering himself up completely and going to examine them. The sight of the little rubber numbers scattered around has him growling in frustration. This is the fifth damned remote they’ve replaced since they bought the TV two months before. He drops his ass onto the top step leading back into the living room, elbows propped on his knees, head cradled in his hands. He’s still sitting there when Derek wanders back in, gently closing the loft door behind him. The glare Stiles levels at him doesn’t go unnoticed.

“All I wanted to do was relax and watch some TV tonight.” It had been a long week, an especially tough case keeping him out all hours. They’d finally put it to bed this morning, and most of the paperwork was filed. He was looking forward to numbing his brain in front of the idiot box for the next two days.

“Sorry.” It’s mumbled and laced with guilt, shame coloring Derek’s cheeks. It makes something in Stiles’ heart clench, he hates when Derek gets that look, like he’s sure this is going to be what drives Stiles away. He really hates that look. He sighs, dragging himself to his feet and grabbing Derek’s hand, pulling the other man along until they reach the sofa. His fingertips gently push on Derek’s shoulder until he’s laying down, Stiles crawling onto it after him and wrapping Derek’s arms around him so he won’t fall off, head pillowed on Derek’s chest and legs tangling together. He props his chin up, making sure to catch Derek’s gaze.

“Hey. Want to tell me what happened this time?”

“Nothing that doesn’t happen every time I try to use the damned thing.” His voice is gruff, a little petulant, but Stiles knows it’s built out of frustration more than anything else.

“And the remote had to die for it?” He says it with a smile, a teasing edge to his tone, trying to find the humor in the situation and chase away the doubts sliding behind Derek’s eyes.

“I’m sorry, I just…I was so frustrated. I’m so fucking stupid.” Derek’s eyes scrunch shut, jaw ticking as he clenches it.

“What? Derek you are not stupid.” His heart remains steady, though his chest constricts at the words.

“I can’t even make the TV work.” It’s low grumble, barely loud enough for Stiles to hear. It makes his heart hurt more and he reaches a hand up, fingertips gripping Derek’s chin and squeezing gently until the other man opens his eyes and looks back at him.

“You are not stupid.” He enunciates the words, making sure Derek can hear the truth in them. “So what if the TV gives you trouble, it still gives my dad trouble too. I’m pretty sure he’s gone through more remotes than we have, he just doesn’t tell me every time he breaks one.” He can see Derek’s mouth start to open on another protest and he surges up, pressing their lips together to cut him off. It’s a useful distraction, and his chest warms when Derek gets with the program and kisses him back, arms tightening around Stiles to hold him more tightly. They break apart after a few minutes, both of them flushed but most of the doubts washed away from Derek’s eyes. Derek rolls them so he’s on his side, body spooned around Stiles’. They drift off together in the quiet of the apartment. Stiles wakes with a crick in his neck, but it’s worth it to see the peaceful expression still on Derek’s face, a night spent sleeping wrapped up in the smell of _them_ going further than words to show that Stiles loved him and didn’t really care about the broken remote. Speaking of, he jogged upstairs to their room, changing into sweats which were far more comfortable than the uniform he’d slept in before rifling through his bottom drawer, moving aside some rarely worn clothes to reveal a box filled with brand new replacement remotes. He was pretty sure Derek would eventually get the hang of the smart TV, but it didn’t hurt to be prepared.

**Author's Note:**

> Come join me on [tumblr](http://jennthereaper.tumblr.com)!


End file.
